


A Sea of Dependence

by AnonDude



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonDude/pseuds/AnonDude
Summary: Oneshot of Ciel and Sebastian being sadistic fucks to a rude and condescending prospective business partner, but also and mostly about Ciel's fucked up ways of dealing with his trauma. He seriously has control issues.And there's some (very lowkey) pining and the two of them are both Actually into each other not just for the power, but. Ciel still has very much not admitted that, so don't expect romance.The past rape/noncon & past torture tags are for canon stuff that is referenced; there is implied consensual noncon ...roleplay I guess, but I think roleplay is a bit of a loose word for it. Ciel likes to re-enact his trauma basicallyyyyyDead Dove: Do Not Eat!!! Ciel is 12. Nothing about this is going to pass the purity police, so pls keep scrolling if it's not ur thing
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	A Sea of Dependence

**Author's Note:**

> Did i start this fic and abandon it at 600 words a year ago? Maybe.
> 
> Did i entirely rewrite and finish it this evening and am now just reposting the whole thing? Yes.
> 
> Hopefully at least someone enjoys it

It was not a secret that Ciel had never appreciated being condescended to, or dismissed as naive. It was infuriating and tiring to be constantly underestimated — regardless of the fact that he was an earl, and ran his business and estate himself — just because he was twelve. It never seemed to matter how successful his company was, or the power he held, or how composed his speech was — to many he simply could never be taken as seriously as an adult.

In a sense, he could understand it. As foolish as some of his prospective business partners were _now_ as adults, it was unimaginable how grossly incompetent they would have been as children. Not that Ciel considered himself a child.

And really, it would be disgustingly bold of _any_ of those men to compare their younger selves to _him_.

Perhaps he had only been born twelve years ago, but he had been through more in the last two years than most people had in their lifetime, and he could attest that it made a difference. He was far from a naive child; his childhood and naivety had been forcibly stripped from him with everything else, and he had replaced it with spite and determination and cunning.

He hated the things that had happened and the people who had done them without question or measure, but he was satisfied with the person he was now, nonetheless. There was no room to question what he _might_ have been like, because there was no changing the damned past, there was only moving forward as things were.

The memories of course haunted him, both in dreams and awake. They pulled at him, and for the first few months he'd struggled not to be dragged under, but as he'd said. No changing the damned past, there was only moving forward. And now when the memories pulled at him, he pulled back. And when the pull had become a sort of twisted allure, a craving to go back, he _did_. On _his_ terms.

Having a demon under his command, as a personal butler, had many uses. Sebastian was, after all, there to serve all of his needs, and Ciel took a sick sort of satisfaction in bringing his own worst nightmares back to life. It all came back to power. Control.

As long as Ciel had power and control, he had everything, as far as he was concerned. And, fortunately for him, he had plenty of both of those things

He cared little if he was taking the right path forward, or if it was wrong or unhealthy. He had been damned from the moment he'd made the deal with the demon, and it was far from the worst of his sins.

Directly after the fire and all the subsequent horrors, after being dragged back into life, Ciel wouldn't have thought he'd ever _enjoy_ hearing screams of fear and pain and raw desperation, even if he would've enjoyed the killing that led to it.

He wouldn't have _minded_ it if it came along with the killing of those who had killed his parents, like it had come with the destruction of those... those _people_ who had taken him. He had taken pleasure in their deaths, and certainly the screams were gratifying, but he hadn't _reveled_ in them. He hadn't sought after and soaked in those sounds of agony.

Now, though... now, he found himself enjoying it quite a bit, and having an excuse to ellicit them made the frustration at being infantalised at least a bit worthwhile.

So when the second prospective Funtom partner this week rudely took exception to making a deal with him — a _child_ — as soon as Ciel showed any competence in bargaining at all, Ciel smiled. The shadows in the corners of his study deepened.

He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, his uncovered eye flicking up to the blustering man's face and then back down to the papers on his desk. "I would have thought a man of your station would have a better grasp on propriety, Mr. Pennington. Your rudeness isn't going to do you any favours in securing the deal you want with _my_ company."

Mr. Pennington stood angrily. "I don't have to pretend bargaining with a snot-nosed little brat is anything but ridiculous. You haven't the faintest idea how to run a corporation and I don't know why everyone bothers to humour you just because you have a bit of money lying around. They should have put you in an orphanage and been done with it, instead of letting you waltz around as if you actually know what it means to be an _Earl_."

Ciel's lips pressed together. "Allow my butler to show you out. He may..." his eye trailed toward the shadows seeping in under the door like tar, reaching toward Gersham Pennington's chair like spindly, grasping fingers. "He may... see fit to _enlighten_ you as to why I am apparently _humoured_ so often."

A part of him wanted Sebastian to make Pennington experience the same horrors he had, make him _truly understand_ how Ciel would not and could never again truly be labelled a child. Make him feel the same terror and helplessness, and make him feel the pain of _knowing he has to live through it after_.

Sebastian was certainly capable. He was well versed in playing out _exactly_ the things Ciel had been through at his direction, and he couldn't imagine it would be difficult for Sebastian to subject a new victim to the very same. A part of him wanted to force Pennington to feel what he felt, to be forced to remember again and again, to feel the fear climbing up his throat at the thought of being pinned down again.

Ciel swallowed. Yes, a part of him wanted that, but another part of him that he steadfastly refused to name hated the idea. Sebastian was _his_ , those memories were _his_ , that experience and all that came with it was his and _his alone_.

And then there was also the fact that, even as much as he would deny it aloud, the fear was now mixed with a thrill. A thrill he wanted to keep to himself; Pennington didn't deserve it. He didn't _deserve_ knowing that it was in his control like Ciel did. He didn't deserve knowing he would be cared for after, or that it never had to happen again if he didn't want it to.

He still remembered the original torture. The days and then weeks, time blurring together. Being treated like an animal and locked in a cage, not granted the decency of clothing. Being _sold_ like livestock, the searing pain and shame of being _branded_ with a hot iron. A sea of people in hoods always gathered and present, always watching, taking him out to use him and break him for their pleasure again and again whenever they wanted. Being bled out on an altar as a sacrifice once they'd had enough, once they'd decided his body wasn't enough, that they needed his blood and his soul too. Of _course_ he still remembered. He could never forget. But the memories seemed so much more distant now, overwritten time and time again with Sebastian. Their pull was now an entirely different one; he had shaped it into a pull toward action rather than getting trapped in his memories. A desire rather than a panic.

Now when he was pinned, he didn't see shadowed, hooded figures and smell stale sweat and blood. He didn't feel the cold press of metal no matter what was truly around him. Now, he felt fear yes, but he also felt a warm thrill up his spine. The speeding of his heart was not entirely from terror, and when his pleas fell on deaf ears, he revelled in the fact that it was those emotionless red eyes locked with his. Not safe by nature, but _required_ to be, a beast chained into his service by the contract between them.

Ciel often wondered if that was what Sebastian was thinking about when he pulled his hair to force his head back, and stared with a singular focus into the eye marked with the seal of their contract. He wondered if the demon wished he was free to _actually_ break him, to devour his soul and be done with this game. The idea thrilled Ciel further. There was a special deliciousness to such complete power over something that would murder you in an instant, if only it could.

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian answered his implied command to escort Pennington out and get rid of him almost instantaneously, breaking his train of thought.

He'd only been lost in thought for perhaps a second, but it was enough to have rearranged his priorities for the evening. He trusted that Sebastian could deal with the rude man in a satisfyingly horrific manner, but he cared less about Pennington's torturous last minutes of life, and more about just finishing up with it already. The man already seemed spooked, it wouldn't take much to finish him.

Mr. Pennington had startled at the words, and whirled quickly to see the imposing butler standing by the open study door, calmly directing him toward it. He hadn't heard the door open or the servant enter, and something about that butler had unsettled him since he'd first arrived, but he surpressed the spike of fear. It wouldn't do to look weak to the brat. His silent, creepy butler was probably just another one of his childish games.

He grabbed the case he'd brought with his papers, and followed the butler out of the room, not looking back at the pompous child behind the desk. He should have known this whole thing would be a waste of time. Others had voiced again and again that if he was looking to grow a market for his sweets, partnering with the Funtom company would be invaluable.

And maybe that was true, but there was no point attempting it when that fickle child was entirely in charge, deciding whether people were worthy or not on a whim, and making ridiculous demands. Gersham doubted he even knew what half of the words he was saying actually _meant_. Probably just spouting off phrases he'd heard other people say.

The candelabra the butler held flickered as they walked down the long hallway, and Gersham noticed it was quite a bit darker than he thought it should have been. It was only just now evening, and he thought it was poor planning, if nothing else, that the manor hallways would be so gloomy at this hour. He wondered why there were no gas lamps on the walls, or at least why the doors to rooms with windows weren't open to let a bit of light in. Just another reason not to let a child have the run of an entire manor.

He looked closer at the butler as he led him down the stairs. He seemed awfully put-together and serious, even if he was a bit creepy; it was a wonder he put up with this nonsense.

"How can you stand to take orders from a child?" he asked bluntly.

The candles in the candelabra all went out at once, as if a gust of wind had come through.

"Run," he heard the butler say — though the voice hardly sounded human. "It's more fun when I get to chase my prey."

Gersham was frozen in fear, and could feel the hairs all over his body standing up. He could vaguely see an odd, feathered, hulking outline in the dark, and two red piercing eyes. Was that... that _thing_ the butler?

It took a slow, deliberate step toward him, the footstep echoing down the staircase. He ran.

Ciel smiled as he heard the screams begin.

As predicted, it didn't take long. After only a few minutes, the manor fell silent, and Ciel uncrossed his legs. "Sebastian." He demanded his presence quietly, but he had no doubt the demon would hear.

"Yes, my lord?" It was murmured in his ear, and Ciel surpressed a shiver and closed his eyes briefly at the hot air washing over his neck, the lips so close to brushing his skin. Ah, clearly they had been thinking along similar lines.

Ciel tilted his head up to look at the demon standing behind him, and then slowly tugged at the tie of his eyepatch, letting it fall into his lap. He knew he needent put the extra weight behind the order — just as he knew Sebastian was already ready and willing — but it made him feel powerful to imagine he was capable of seduction, and the sight of the seal did seem to have an... effect on the demon.

He met Sebastian's eyes with both of his.

"I want to play before dinner."

Sebastian's eyes gleamed, and his lips curled in a small smirk. "Of course, young master. As you wish."


End file.
